


Not A Kindness

by emmykay



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Character Study, M/M, Pre-Relationship, food analogy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-22
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-08-24 01:30:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8350999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmykay/pseuds/emmykay
Summary: Victor Nikiforov was not a kind man.





	

It was something Yuuri's friend Yuko had said. Something about how kind Victor was to come to Hasetsu. Victor had laughed, charmingly indicated how his motivations were not for discussion, and quickly changed the topic. 

Whatever characteristics people ascribed to him, Victor Nikiforov was not a kind man. 

Easily moved and quickly bored, possibly. Forgetful, probably. Impulsive, absolutely. 

Coming to Japan, to Hasetsu, was very much an impulsive move. But it felt so good to move, finally get away from that suffocating sameness, away from the endless circling of unchanging ideas and doubts and feelings, the blandness of even his favorite foods. Because Japan, Hasetsu, was nothing like Russia.

Whatever had caused Victor to abandon Russia and Yakov and hop on the first flight to Fukuoka International and thence onto Hasetsu and further onward to Yu-topia to offer himself as Katsuki Yuuri's coach was not kindness. 

Victor was not stupid. The likelihood of Katsuki Yuuri turning him down was low. If Yuuri couldn't afford him, or if Yuuri was not interested or was planning to retire, if nothing else, Yuuri and the Katsuki family would put Victor up for a while. Unlike him, they seemed very kind.

He knew other people were kind, and Victor was grateful when he noticed kindness directed toward him. But he could not summon kindness in the way it seemed to be depicted in movies or tv.

Of the things he was; impatient, forgetful, perpetually unsatisfied - and of the things people saw; friendliness, creativity, charm - kindness was not something that immediately came to mind. Perhaps even those impressions were a kindness to him.

He could fake kindness well enough, through the short or long program. Of course, there was the photographs and autographs with fans. But that, too, was a performance. One that had the multiple benefits of being part of his job and feeding his ego. Being known as a genius extrovert came in handy when inconveniencing his trainers, his colleagues, his handlers. He was not a genius. He very much understood nature had been so kind as to grant him with beauty, some talent, and a powerful competitive drive. He had also been given enough intelligence to know that because of all those gifts, he would not be harshly penalized for virtually anything.

Mostly, Victor knew what he wanted and he mostly got it. If this was due to other people's kindness, well, he hoped they got something they wanted out of the exchange. It helped saved everyone's feelings. He was not interested in emotional scenes unless he was making them.

He supposed that it might have been competition that had dried up whatever kindness he naturally had. If he were honest, that reservoir had started off very small.

Then, right after his fifth World Championship win, right after some reporter finally asked what he had planned, right after he was tired of saying the same nonanswer, amidst the ads for disappointing restaurants that all duplicated one another, a comment had come up in one of his social media accounts. And then in another. And yet another. And then there was a direct link from one of his old coaches in his personal, locked account. 

_You see this?_

Mildly curious, with nothing else to do that evening, he yawned and clicked. Victor hadn't expected very much. Copying and minor changes of routines happened all the time between pros and talented amateurs, a kind of working entertainment. He had seen enough that he knew in the first few seconds whether or not it was worth watching a few seconds more. That's all he usually gave it. 

A young man, vaguely familiar-looking, black hair, dark-eyed, black and blue training suit, skated into view. With the casual criticism of one professional about another, Victor noted Katsuki Yuuri seemed out of shape, fat, his clothing sloppy. Victor leaned back with a sigh, fingers pressed against his forehead as a preemptive to the upcoming irritated headache.

Then Katsuki Yuuri landed the quadruple Lutz. 

Victor's eyes narrowed. His thumb hovered, undecided, over the screen. A few more seconds before he switched.

Katsuki Yuuri came closer to the camera, arms spread. A welcome. 

Leaning forward into the phone in his hand, Victor just need a few a further few more seconds to decide if he wanted to switch.

One of Katsuki Yuuri's hand lay on his heart, the other extended toward the camera, his face intent, glowing, open, innocent, wondering. An offering.

Victor's breath caught.

Victor Nikiforov, skating genius, champion, able to track every move to every note, all the muscular micro-transitions between jump and glide and spin in every skate routine and especially this one that he had choreographed himself, Victor Nikiforov had lost track of time. It was his routine, but Katsuki Yuuri had made it different. While any routine done by any two people would be different - this kind of different was new, transformative.

Victor couldn't look away.

The video of Yuuri performing his piece had made something inside of him shift. 

Immediately after watching, Victor had searched, and found, other videos of Yuuri. For someone who didn't seem to have a very large online presence, Yuuri had a fiercely loyal fan base. Practices, performances, award ceremonies, clips of interviews, all appeared on youtube. Victor frowned as time slipped away. Practices were practices. Every single performance needed improvement - not that Yuuri was alone in this. Most skaters could improve on many points. But every single one of Yuuri's performances showed technical expertise, strength, good physicality, and flashes of something - something - that made Victor feel - something. Piqued?

Something interesting. Something different, something surprising. Something he had been waiting for, even if he hadn't known it until he had seen it.

The clock on his phone beeped. Victor checked the time, and then, startled. He had been lost, in thought, in dreams, in half-formed ideas, only to be pulled back to mundane reality by an alarm.

It was enough. Enough to stir Victor to forget his obligations, to cheerfully give an unsuspecting Yakov the equivalent of a quick shove off a short pier, to get on a plane, to barge into someone's life uninvited.

When Victor looked into the reality of Yuuri's meltingly brown eyes behind those chunky blue frames, his black hair, his frumpy clothes, his plump shape, heard that soft voice, Victor knew he wasn't here because of kindness.

The days passed, with Yuuri becoming sleeker and, hilariously, glummer over the continued prospect of plain protein, steamed vegetables, and whole grain. Over dinner, Victor would catch Yuuri looking at Victor's plate, filled with refined carbohydrates, fried foods and meaty sauces, with an intense yearning and a hopeless despair. 

Good. A person needed to work for their tastes of pleasure, of happiness.

Watching Yuuri was a peculiar kind of satisfaction. There was a hard-riding drive there, behind that softness. While Yuuri struggled, Victor knew something was happening behind those dark eyes, the way Yuuri was drawn to and then, moments later, pulled away from him.

Victor had pumped Yuuri's friends for information, he had seen the sights from the ocean to the castle to the funny squid and sea urchin mascot, he had practiced in the Ice Castle. The streets were astoundingly clean, the public services regular, the people incredibly polite. Hasetsu even smelled better than he would have thought - ocean and grass and fresh-cooked food. He liked Hasetsu, was becoming fond of the people, enjoyed the liquor, loved the food.

Mm. The food. So satisfying. Mm. Every bite of every dish in his mouth - it was all so good. Victor could see how Yuuri would get fat here.

Victor's own metabolism was too fast to allow that.

The people were very kind. The Katsuki family were very generous hosts. And Yuuri - Yuuri was the kindest of all, after he got over being shy. Sometimes, shyness wasn't a cover for anything interesting - but in Yuuri's case, a genuine kindness emanated from him once the shyness passed. Surprising, yes, but also, quite pleasing. 

Yuuri tried to help his family, wanted to promote Hasetsu, was genuinely sweet to everyone. Even Yurio. 

Yuuri also loved Makkachin. Makkachin, the brat, did his utmost to take advantage, constantly begging for treats and trying, with all the charm in his doggy soul, for pets and walks and scratches.

Not that Victor could blame Makkachin. A fit Yuuri, capable of Eros, would make almost anyone beg.

But still. Bad Makkachin. One's appetites shouldn't take one over. Especially towards one's owner's delicious new student. Self-control was important. Planning and working for a goal was important - it made the victory sweet. The greater the goal, the sweeter the victory. And if one could come in, sweeping from the bottom to the top, rendering all critics mute with astonishment, that was sweetest of all. 

Yuuri knew this. Victor just needed to remind him of it, as through that timely posting of video, Yuuri had reminded Victor.

It wasn't kindness that brought Victor here. It was, frankly, hunger. Hunger for something new, something different, something special. Something he'd been looking for for years. And Japan, Hasetsu, Yuuri, was delivering.

_Vkusno._

**Author's Note:**

> Just finished watching episode 3.


End file.
